


The Greater Good

by CarmelaCosta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Death, Deviates From Canon, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29206203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmelaCosta/pseuds/CarmelaCosta
Summary: Jessica Clark is transported through time and reality to the Wizarding World in 1995. Trying to maintain the original timeline, whilst navigating her new life and relationships, she is forced to choose between her own feelings and ensuring the victory of the Light.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	The Greater Good

**_12 th August 2020 - Tunstall, Stoke-on-Trent._ **

“Mr Carmichael, I can’t sell you Piriton to give to your dog.”

Miltons Chemists was a small, family-owned pharmacy chain in Staffordshire, and their branches tended to be located on the streets of quieter towns. The Tunstall branch was no exception. Sandwiched between a bank and a bookies, the shop-front was no-wider than ten foot, which didn’t exactly support heavy footfall. Wednesday afternoons were always quiet. It was both a blessing and a curse. It often afforded her a few hours to catch up on jobs that had been neglected, but it could also drag unbearably, and make four hours feel like fourteen. And then, on other occasions, it would end up like this. Spending forty-five minutes on the phone to Mr Carmichael, repeatedly explaining that she could not prescribe him human medicines for his pet.

“No, I can’t just _pretend_ it’s for you, because you’ve told me it isn’t,” she continued. Twirling the end of her brunette braid with one hand, she shuffled the phone to rest between her ear and shoulder with the other. She waited for his response.

“I _know_ you’ve said it’s fine to use on animals, but I’m not allowed to sell it for any use other than personal,” she emphasised.

Her mind wandered as she listened to his response, sifting through each item of today’s agenda. _Give the perfume cabinet a polish. Restock the sanitisers, hair grips, and compression socks. Give Eleanor at the hospital branch a call back._

“Who’s that?” Steve, the pharmacist, mouthed silently to her – interrupting her train of thought.

“Oh, it’s Mr Carmichael – after something for his dog. I’ve already told him to go to the vets,” she replied, muffling the receiver against her chest to hide her voice.

“Good luck with that one,” Steve countered, coupled with a slow nod and a poorly hid smirk. Rolling her eyes, she focused once again on her conversation with Mr Carmichael.

“When I say personal, I mean, ‘for use by your person’. You have to be the one using it,” she clarified.

He still continued to complain.

“I’m not a pharmacist, so I can’t make the decision on what to give you. I can only follow the guidance they give us, and it _guides_ me to only sell it to humans,” holding back a laugh, she persevered with her explanation.

“Yes. Mhmm. I’m sorry. Thank you, bye. Yep, bye.”

She placed the off-white, dated landline back onto the switch hook.

_Thank fuck that’s over._ She thought and turned back to the half-open box of hand sanitisers – emptying them into the plastic tub next to her till. Then, as she was in the middle of entering her password into the till computer, the phone rang again.

“Oh for God’s sake – Hello, Miltons Chemists. Jessica speaking, how can I help?” her voice switched from exasperated to almost sickly-sweet. This was soon dropped when she heard the familiar voice down the other end of the line.

“Calling back thirty seconds later and giving me a fake name, isn’t going to work, Mr Carmichael. Goodbye now,” Jessica hung up, again. She turned back to Steve.

“I’m going on my break, if he rings about his dog’s bloody hay fever again, I think I might cut the phone line.”

“Professional as ever Jessica,” he teased.

Ignoring him, she hurried to the back area. Grabbing her things from the staff room, and checking her phone was still in her front pocket, she returned to the shop floor.

“I’m getting chips, does anybody want anything?” Jessica queried, slinging her black work bag over her shoulder. She made her way over to the pharmacy entrance, pulling the door back enough to catch the small bell, but then paused to hear any responses from her colleagues.

“Alright, I’ll see you in a sec then– won’t be long.”

She stepped down the single concrete step and out onto the main high street. They were in mid-August, and the temperature was sweltering. She walked with brisk, loping strides, eyes focused on her phone rather than her surroundings – only glancing up every ten seconds to prevent any collisions. Her short-sleeved work tunic allowed the sun to scorch her forearms, and she revelled in the feel of it beating down onto her. She tried to blow air upwards towards the short sections of hair that had fallen from her braid and frizzed at her temples, but to no avail as they continued to tickle and irritate her.

Town was busy. Jessica struggled to understand why – if she did not have to work, she would be spending the hottest day of the year relaxing somewhere, rather than traipsing about town with shopping bags. Opting for a shortcut to avoid the crowds, she turned right into a narrow gulley built between two rows of shops. The deep red brick of the Victorian buildings cast an oppressive shadow, providing a brief reprieve from the glare of the sun. Only too late did she notice that the sounds of the bustling high street, not ten yards behind her, had gone silent.

Biting cold crept down her body, as though she was being submerged upside-down into a lake. She became hyperaware of her surroundings, trying desperately to understand what was happening. Whirling around to face the alleyway entrance, she _knew_ it was only a few strides away, but it seemed impossibly far and empty, as though it were the early hours of the morning when the town was deserted.

“Hello?” she shouted out nervously, holding her breath as she waited to hear a response. Nothing.

_What the hell? The high street was full? Wasn’t it?_

Then, it started from her navel. What at first felt close to a pinch, grew into a repeated pulling sensation that created deep spasms in her lower abdominal muscles. It was like she was being led from _inside of her own body,_ to a destination she could not quite place. Jessica was overwhelmed by the feeling of being twisted and compressed, squeezing her body almost like she was having her blood pressure taken. Then, just when the band can’t tighten any more, it gives–

– and then she disappeared.

* * *

_Crack._

She stumbled backwards, hitting her heel against something solid. Her eyes, were blinded for a moment, swirling patches covering most of her vision.

“Fucking hell – I, oh God,” she moaned. Reaching out blindly, her hands brushed against something rough and wooden, and she grabbed it tightly in an effort to remain upright. A high-pitched ringing invaded her hearing and rolling waves of nausea began to sweep across her body, sending her senses into disarray.

_Brilliant._

In the background, her mind could vaguely begin to process her surroundings. Eyes still scrunched shut, previously muffled sounds now developed into voices – _angry voices._ The ringing sound died out in tandem with the growing volume of the shouting.

“Identify yourself – tell Albus right away – who is she – presence of two Aurors, you will be arrested immediately should you not identify yourself – not marked, so she’s not a Death Eater – how did she get in – what is your NAME girl – why is she wobbling like that?” The shouting was so deafening it became disorientating, making it near-impossible to pick out individual voices or even whole sentences.

“I think– I– I need to go to a hospital,” she gasped out before another wave of nausea could travel through her. “Something’s wrong with me, I need an ambulance.”

“Ambilant? What’s the girl talking about Arthur?” a female voice questioned in a shaky tone that displayed her confusion and nerves.

“ _Ambulance_ , Mrs. Weasley. It’s a vehicle used to take Muggles to healers when they’re sick,” the second female voice interjected, younger-sounding this time. “I think she might be Muggle-born. She’s wearing Muggle clothes at least.”

She opened her mouth to confirm her name, but a tangy ripple travelled up her throat, leaving a trail of burning pain, originating from her sternum and ending at the back of her throat. Swallowing shakily, she tucked her chin to her chest and inhaled deeply though her nose. As she sucked in a channel of fresh air through her nostrils, it seemed to trigger a reaction and force a sloppy-sounding burp out of her mouth.

_Oh no._

Opening her mouth to try and gulp in some air was a mistake. A big one. Her stomach clenched in pain and saliva pooled in her mouth. Next, she was bent double, retching and heaving as vomit splattered out onto the stone floor. Dragging her hand across the back of her mouth and grimacing at the covered floor and her ruined shoes, she smacked her lips together, desperate for water. Her vision zoned in and out as she stared blankly at the mess.

Finally, when the burning in the back of her throat had dissipated, she lifted her head– 

– to look straight into the green eyes of Harry Potter.

It was all the same. The eyes were the first thing to confront her, contained by a pair of round spectacles. His hair was the second thing she noticed, jet-black and scruffy, and only covering half of his infamous scar. He was stood about two metres from her, his wand pointed directly at her chest.

His, and about ten others. All aimed straight for her. She could pick them all out. _God, what was happening to her?_

“Identify yourself, girl. Now,” a gruff voice shouted. Mad Eye.

“I-,” she was brought to a stop, her mouth dried up suddenly, as though she had taken a bite out of some bull rushes. Pins and needles soared up through her fingertips in shooting, rhythmic bursts, and she felt her body temperature skyrocket.

_Fuck –_ was her only thought, as her head blurred, knees buckled, and she slammed unconscious onto the kitchen floor.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have relied on HP Lexicon for accurate dates. Jessica lands in 12 Grimmauld Place on 12th August 1995, the evening after Harry’s trial at the Ministry. In the books, Moody is not present during this scene, but I decided to make him present for the purposes of this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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